Iron and Blood: A Triumph of the Will

Powerful shells exploded in the city streets.

The roof of a low-rise house was blown off in an instant.

Amidst the dust, the Polish soldiers stationed here were also swept away by the artillery fire.

"There's nothing more to say; the Poles are in retreat."

Manstein smiled at Model: "Today, the Empire marches forward with its head held high."

"Judging from the current situation, we have recovered about 30% of the city. Next, we just need to compress the Poles and drive them away."

Squinting, Model adjusted the shell parameters: "Luckily, we got enough artillery from Silesia, otherwise we would definitely have suffered a great loss today. The number of Poles is just too large. I estimate that the total number of people in Poz is about 6."

"Are there that many?"

"This number is still growing. What we've done in Poland these days has made them hate us."

"If you hate them so much, then we can drive them out of Pots without any scruples."

"Stop talking, we still have a lot of important tasks to do."

Model drew the target for the next artillery bombardment on the map and handed the map over to his staff.

The Poles, relying on the city of Posen, set up two lines of defense and gradually resisted the German offensive.

Moreover, the Poles outnumbered the Polish, who had approximately 3 fresh troops in Poz.

Model did not have many troops. His combined forces with Manstein's numbered only about five or six thousand. The rest were just a hastily organized group of thugs.

Fortunately, although the Poles outnumbered the others, they were a motley crew, and due to the hasty uprising, many of them did not even receive a single rifle.

Model's troops consisted mostly of German veterans who were unwilling to be demobilized, and they were well-equipped.

They were even equipped with dozens of cannons.

They even had the help of the German Air Force; at the Wawiese airbase near the province of Poz, dozens of fighter planes had already taken off with Manstein's assistance.

They were ready to provide air support to Manstein and his men at any time.

Therefore, Model felt that the task at hand was somewhat difficult, and he would need to spend some effort to drive away all those rabble.

"Sir, this map marks many civilian areas, should we...?"

The staff officer looked at the areas marked with an X on the map and hesitated.

Because the signs clearly indicate which places are schools and hospitals.

"There are no civilians here." Model's voice was as cold as ever. "The broadcast has been going on for half an hour. By now, most of the civilians in Pots should have been evacuated. If there are still people staying in the hospital hoping for the best, it means they have no intention of obeying our orders and are not Germans."

"Since they are no longer Germans, we have no reason to protect them. Our way of dealing with enemies is to exterminate them."

Joachim had already given Schörner the order when he regained control of the broadcasting station.

He was instructed to broadcast orders to evacuate the entire city.

Although it was nominally a broadcast to evacuate the entire city, Joachim was far from merciful.

He had already given Schörner instructions to differentiate between the Poles living here and to send all those who couldn't speak German back to Poland.

As for the German-speaking Poles, they could stay in Poz, and Joachim also asked Schörner to produce some evidence.

This proves that the Poles massacred the Germans here.

Therefore, Schörner has a heavy burden on his shoulders.

Schörner was also doing this for the first time, and compared to the experienced Wolf, he was more likely to get caught up in his own inner struggle.

The cigarettes crackled and burned in the empty room.

Now it was Wolf's turn to speak: "Since you can't make that decision, then I'll handle the Polish men, and you can deal with the women and children as you see fit."

As soon as he finished speaking, Wolf finished smoking the cigarette that was sizzling in his mouth.

The German man opposite him turned even paler.

Even so, Schörner still couldn't make up his mind, and Wolf ignored him.

Anyway, he didn't want Schörner to get blood on his hands. If the other party could handle the situation properly and keep those Polish women quiet, he wouldn't have any objections.

He shrugged and then ordered the thugs to escort the Polish prisoners.

They headed towards the distant forest.

Schörner was left alone in the room, smoking silently by himself.

After a long silence, Schörner struggled to his feet and staggered toward the toilet.

I turned on the tap and washed my face, feeling a bit more awake afterward.

He lit another cigarette, and under the red light, he looked at his increasingly pale face in the mirror.

"Who is it?"

In a daze, Schörner heard the sound of the door being pushed open.

He turned his head and saw that it was his secretary who had walked in.

"It's almost time, sir."

"Secretary-General Model and his team are advancing very quickly. If they continue at this pace, they will be able to drive all the Poles out of the city by tomorrow morning. If we don't act now, it will be too late."

"If it gets investigated later, it will be another mess."

"A terrible mess."

"I cannot let Your Highness down."

Upon hearing this, Schörner muttered to himself, stubbed out his cigarette, and went downstairs.

The Polish prisoners who joined the uprising have been identified, and the men have been taken away by Wolf; their fate is self-evident.

As for the women and children, they were grouped together and handed over to Schörner to handle.

The red glow of gunfire mingled with the cold wind that swept in, splashing raindrops onto people's faces.

Now all eyes were on Schörner, whether they were prisoners of war, men, women, or German soldiers.

They were all waiting for Schörner's orders; with just a word from him, the fate of these Poles could be decided.

We must get rid of them completely and leave no hidden dangers!

Or should we spare their lives?

No matter how lowly the other person's life may seem, isn't it still a human life to them?

Schörner was struggling internally, his gaze drifting towards the Poles.

However, with just one glance, he was struck by the Polish man's gaze; it was a silent confrontation.

The captured Poles, though their faces were blackened by the smoke of war, had eyes filled with the despair of losing their country.

But his eyes, though filled with despair, were frighteningly bright.

That was a hatred tempered by national and personal vendettas, a hatred that even death could not suppress.

There was no pleading, no commotion; those gathered here by the Germans were all die-hard Polish nationalists.

So they just watched, watching this conqueror high above them, stepping on their heads.

Yes, even if we kill them.

Poland will still exist; don't let those Germans be too happy too soon.

Just like their former homeland of Poland, the Poles were oppressed by the Germans and Russians for 150 years, but in the end they were reborn from the ashes.

They'll come back sooner or later.

Schörner felt uneasy under their gazes and unconsciously looked away.

He looked at his secretary: "Are there any die-hard Polish nationalists among us?"

"Secretary-General, all of them."

Schörner was speechless, and his words of letting them go were swallowed back down.

He blinked his dry eyes, breathing heavily.

Moving his feet, Schörner walked toward the youngest Polish child in the front row.

He raised his hand and stroked the other person's soft head, but his palm exerted a little force, as if he wanted the other person to beg for mercy.

But Schörner was met with a "Pah!"

The "Pah!" made Schörner's body tremble slightly, and he slowly got up and gave a self-deprecating laugh.

Yes, that's not something that makes him soften his heart.

This was a life-or-death struggle, and under such circumstances, he actually felt a pang of pity?

How funny!

He turned his head and looked at his secretary.

Schörner's secretary was startled by that look.

He had never seen that look on Schörner's face before.

His eyes were lifeless, devoid of any emotion, only a coldness that emanated from his very bones.

He said, "Frederick the Great once said that any means are justified in achieving one's goals."

"Now I want to wipe out those damn Poles completely. Can you do it?"